


The Moon's Whisper: A Sariel Backstory Theory

by maplemooh



Category: Life of the Party (Web Series)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Moon, Sacrifice, Wildform, druid, theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplemooh/pseuds/maplemooh
Summary: My theory on how Sariel left the cult of Moon Maidens, walking towards joining the Party in the future.





	The Moon's Whisper: A Sariel Backstory Theory

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this was written after Episode 8, revised for things in Episode 9, but not revised after revealed details in Episode 10. If I kept revising, it would never get posted!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!

Today was supposed to be the biggest day of Sariel’s life.

She had been born here, in the Conclave, which had existed in their sliver of idyllic forest for centuries. In those centuries, the elves who worshiped the Moon Goddess had grown in number as She blessed them. They were a conglomerate of people: druids, wizards, warriors, clerics, rogues and normal folk who kept the village running.

Like most young maidens in the village, the Elder Maidens had taken her under their wings, teaching her the ways of their people, and their worship of the Moon. She knew their blessings, and how to keep the Moon Mother joyous so She would continue to bless them with their powers and keep them safe. She knew the stars in the sky were the souls of those who came before them, the Mother scattering them beside Her, so they could watch over the living.

As they came into their adulthood ceremonies, she would be placed in the path to which the Elder Maidens felt she would do best in serving the Moon Mother, alongside the rest of the maidens her age. This was always a joyous time in their village, as the youth celebrated their venture into adulthood, and taking steps into their service to the Conclave.

She never questioned why the boys were not taught in this way. They were taught not to ask too many questions of the sort. She knew that they used to play together, before the Maidens took the girls for their tutelage. Then the boys of her age moved into the part of the city where the men mostly lived and laboured, doing the physical tasks needed to build and support the village. She also knew that when a maiden came of age, the Elders would choose someone for her to produce a child with, continuing with their way of life.

There was usually quite a process to this - pairing off the more powerful Maidens with handsome men. Both of them would be summoned to the Temple for their rituals, sometimes having to go multiple times before a child was conceived. Both parties were to keep their pairings a secret - though sometimes there were suspicions when a Maiden would act very differently towards one of the men in town.

These pairings were not for love. Being in love and partnership was something completely different to them, as their first and foremost love was supposed to be reserved for the Moon Mother. Partnerships happened, usually between Maidens, and sometimes a secret tryst with one of the men, which was deeply frowned upon.

She had been born in this way, like many others. Only the Elders knew who her father was; she was raised by her mother and the village maidens. She hadn’t questioned this - none of them did. It was the way things were, and the Moon Mother continued to bless them for it.

She had been born ‘moon-kissed’. Their village praised certain physical traits: long slender ears, pale eyes, pale skin, and pale hair. All things Sariel possessed in abundance. Her ears were just slightly too long, and her hair was the palest blonde it could be before being classified as white. Her skin was like cream, and her eyes were a vibrant lavender-grey, like the feathers on a dove.

They said the Moon Mother smiled on her, and blessed Sariel in Her image.

She had been fetched in the early hours of the morning, brought to a special room in the temple. There, her special ceremonies would begin. For now, she gazed out the slitted window, watching the courtyard below, where the other maidens were starting their adulthood ceremonies. Part of her wanted to be down there, to be like all the other maidens, taking their vows to serve the Moon Mother. Part of her was honoured that she would have a different role to play. Up until her first millenium, she didn’t question it.The part of her that did question it was terrified to the very core.

On her one-hundredth birthday, the visions had started.

Turning one-hundred was a major celebration for most maidens. This was when the preparations for their ceremonies would start; where they would drink the teas in hopes of having a vision from the Moon herself, telling them what path they should take. This was often when maidens would start to find out if they were in tune with the forest, or with magic, or were adept with bows or daggers.

This was also when Sariel had found out what her fate was supposed to be.

She knew being a sacrifice to the Moon was the utmost honour. Becoming one with the Goddess herself was what every maiden dreamed of, and the ones chosen for sacrifice were done so as to strengthen Her power. It was the position of most honour, and it was highly regarded in the Conclave.

Her life until that point made more sense, after knowing that. She had been treated differently than the other children in the village, because she was ‘moon-kissed’. The maidens were kinder to her in some ways, and much more cruel in others.

When another child was naughty, or disobeyed the rules, they were spoken with, then made to make up for their actions. When Sariel disobeyed, or spoke out of line, or did anything unbecoming, she was taken to the temple. Behind one of the doors in the chapel, was a long stairway down, that opened into an ugly pit of a cave.

There Sariel would be disciplined, cut off from the Goddess deep underground. Depending on the severity of her offense, she could be shackled to the walls for days, with little to eat or drink, until she was exhausted from repentance. She would be told the Moon Goddess couldn’t help her down in the cave. Only then would she be released, doused with cold water to clean off any evidence that she had been held there, and expected to return to her mother with a smile as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

She had cried to her mother after the first time she was bound in the cave. She learned quickly that her mother would side with the maidens, and urged her to be better, act better in the future to not go to the cave again. That because she was moon-kissed, she was held to a higher standard than the other children.

She was to exude piousness at all times. She was to be dressed properly, and speak kindly and always with the praises of the Goddess on her tongue. She was to be chaste, and have no relationships, save for platonic friendships, with the other elves her age. She mustn’t display anger, nor voice an opinion opposite to what the Maidens declared. 

She found out by accident that the women her age thought she was being taken for special treatments when she disappeared - perhaps rumours started by the clerics. She already didn’t have many friends - not any deep relationships at least, due to her perceived status. 

By the time she reached her one-hundredth birthday, even the mention of stepping out of line would make her break into a cold sweat of terror. The last time they lead her to be disciplined, she walked calmly through the village with her head high, as if nothing was the matter, until the stairwell. With each step deeper underground the terror rose in her throat, and as her foot touched the last step, she was sobbing and lashing out hysterically, fighting with all her strength from going down.

She’d spent a week shackled for that display.

She’d managed to go two decades before her millennial birthday without being taken down into the cave. That changed when she found out that she was to be the sacrifice to the Moon, and when the visions started.

She’d been with the other maidens for the visions. They went through their birthday ceremonies; a cleanse, anointment, and then the drinking of the sacred tea. The tea, brewed for this specific occasion, would allow the mind to relax enough for the Moon Goddess to send Her guidance. Most maidens were excited to tell their visions to the Elder Mother; the leader of their Conclave.

Sariel had not been. All the other maidens had clear visions. Hers swam with all kinds of imagery that was different from the others. 

It had started with her in the Temple, but in ruins. By the growth on the pillars, it had been this way for a long while. The heavens had opened up, and she was bathed in a shaft of sparkling moonlight. The light then moved, and she followed it; they walked through the common areas of the Temple: all ruined, and overgrown with moss, fungus and ivy. Finally, it guided her down into a pit in the earth.

The first steps through the pit were terrifying. The walls of the cave were corrupted; the symbols of her faith etched on fleshy bags protruding from the walls, which would inflate, then let out soft screams as they flattened. She was disgusted by the foul filth and rot as she walked further down the wet stairs - she didn’t want to know what was the source of the damp.

The last few feet of the stairs gave way to smoother granite walls. The stench of decay immediately left and was replaced by fresh air, the roughly-hewn tunnel becoming a cavern. It was smooth, with a row of mirrors against one of the walls, that glittered from the light of the moonbeam guiding her.

The first mirror reflected herself, looking the same age as now. She wore clothing that was familiar to her, and still in the shades of purple that the maidens preferred. The clothes were ratty, patched in places and tattered in others. Her skin was dirty, with streaks of filth smudged across her cheeks and hands. Her expression was grim, and determined. The dizzy of anxiety filled her head, making her feel sick.

The next mirror held a fantastically different image. A horde of animals reflected back at her. They all shared the same gray eyes, and the same mark of faith on the forehead, and all were a shimmery silver with lavender undertones. Each animal took on an action as she looked at them: the wolf bristled, baring its teeth before howling. The bear stood up and roared before coming back down. The doe pawed the ground. The owl shuffled it wings before hooting. The snake flicked out a forked tongue. An unmistakable feeling of wildness, being one with nature, washed over her, like the forest itself was pumping life through her veins.

The final mirror held another completely different picture. Her again, but older now - she could tell by the lines in her eyes. Perhaps not much older - half a century? Her skin was blushed pink with life, and her hair wrapped around a crown of glittering seashells. She was adorned in a bodice and skirt of soft, gauzy skeletal leaves. Her hair was long, lush, and braided; different feathers and items were woven in. There was a background to this one, though out of focus. She could see people, but they blurred into shapes of teal, brown, black, blue and green.

She could feel the joy radiating off this image. Whereas the first mirror made her anxious, looking at a ragged, scared version of herself, the second made her feel wild and ferocious, this image soothed her. It was a confident version of herself. She could feel the power through the image, through the way she looked at herself.

It lit a spark in her chest: was this what her destiny should entail?

As she watched another girl become a Maiden through the small window, she thought about the moonbeam leading her out of the cavern. They ran together, over so many different types of lands that she had only heard of in stories: whispered hushes of stories that they weren’t allowed to tell. Sand and sea, swamp and sky: all things Sariel had imagined but never seen. She’d never left the Conclave.

The moonbeam lead her back to the broken Temple. She reached her hands into it, feeling it’s coolness, and it burst into butterflies that sparkled and swarmed around her. As she reveled in their small beating wings against her skin, the cloud of insects lifted her into the light which blinded her. She shut her eyes, feeling safe and warm in the moon’s embrace.

Then, she was choking; hands were over her, grabbing her. When she tried to struggle free, more hands would appear and grip her tight, one covering her mouth as she screamed; the faces of the Elders peering down at her, their smiles...not right, not kind, but evil instead...blades in their hands...

When she woke, there was a knot in her stomach as the words echoed in her head: _Beware_.

The other girls’ dreams were...not as vivid as hers. They were calm and soothing, from what she could tell. None of their visions featured a view of the future, nor far away lands - Sariel had only heard of swamps through the forbidden stories her mother told her. In her vision, she knew that’s where she passed through: forests and hills and swamps and oceans before she saw violence.

Sariel might have been able to deal with the one disturbing vision, but they kept coming. At least once a month, she would have a vision, similar to the first: showing her far-away lands, or placing her mind behind the eyes of a beast and traversing the forest, or a look into the future where she was alive and well.

The visions started her questioning, and with those questions, came discipline for casting doubt on not only her personal path, but in their beliefs and way of life.

She had spent so much time in a frenzy in those wretched caverns. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly: they started off with binding her gently, as to stop her from escaping or from hurting herself, but not tight enough to leave marks. Twenty years later, they slipped up more often and tied her too tightly. Her wrists were bruised with the imprint of rope from her last stay underground, cut off from their Goddess.

The visions flowed more freely in the Cave, calling at her to escape, to run. Telling her that this wasn’t her true destiny. That the Moon wanted her elsewhere, and she had to be one to make it happen.

So she sat in contemplation, about to go through her own special ceremonies to be a sacrifice to the Moon Goddess. 

Every fibre of her was screaming that this was not what the Moon wanted of her.

She started a bit as the door opened, exhaling sharply. A familiar maiden was there: one of the clerics that often lead their worship, and also disciplined her. She’d seen that face snarl at her more than once, and knew the cruelty that laid behind the calm visage.

“Come, it is time.”

Sariel followed the cleric in silence, their soles of their footwraps padding softly on the stone. She was brought to a new chamber, one she had never been in. The cleric ushered her in.

The first room was small; the stone expertly carved in vines, leaves, and the moon cycle symbol. She focused on the inlaid designed as a cleric undressed her, and then clothed her in a robe of silk. She was then lead to a second room with another cleric waiting inside, larger than the first but similar in design. A magical bath was inlaid in the stone. The water was warm, and perfumed heavily with oils. She stepped in, and the two clerics scrubbed her skin with salts, almost to the point that it was painful. Her hair was doused in lighter oils, then scrubbed and rinsed.

When she was deemed ready, they dried her with soft towels, then dressed her in the ceremonial dresses - a long sleeved dress, simple in cut, but made of pale lavender silk. They had her kneel while they braided her hair, weaving in feathers. They sang the songs of worship, and new ones to welcome her home to the Moon Goddess.

She was brought to the chamber of the Elder Mother, the leader of the Conclave.

Sariel was well enough acquainted with the elder elf in front of her. Legend told that the Elder Mother was well into her eighth century. The uninitiated maidens had seen the Elder Mother from afar, when she strolled around the grounds of the Conclave or when she spoke to the congregation of maidens. Sariel had never seen her up close, and she was somewhat surprised to see this woman, who was held in such regard, almost seemed crone-like. Her face was heavily lined with age, eyes so grey that the iris was barely a different shade from the whites, lips still pink and delicate.

“Come to me, my dear moon-kissed child,” she called as Sariel approached her, with a distinctive purr of age in her voice. Spindly hands reached forward, and Sariel took them. She was surprised at their softness.

“Such beauty is within you,” the Elder Mother said. “It is as if the Moon came down and blessed you with her visage.” The older woman sighed, smiling warmly, “You do your sisters a great service, child, and soon will be with the Mother of all of us, to continue to rain down her blessings.”

Sariel wasn’t quite paying attention as the Elder Mother praised her for taking care of herself and her duties to the moon. She was observing the old woman’s nails, as they ran over the skin on the back of her hands, as she thought of the vision of a life past this moment. A shiver prickled up her spine as the soft voice chimed through the echo of the stone room.

As the Elder Mother dipped her fingers in a flower-infused oil, placing them on Sariel’s forehead to anoint her, her thoughts on her vision began to wane as a feeling of comfort washed over her. She was about to become an adult in the eyes of the Conclave, and take her place in their society, and serve the Moon Goddess faithfully for centuries to come, ensuring their survival.

Things were good. Everything was as it should be.

Why didn’t her body feel calm? It was like her mind and body were at odds.

She was lead from the room, and stood in a daze as more clerics threw water on her, chanting, blessing her, and making her ready for her sacrifice.

She should be running. Why wasn’t she running?

She was dizzy, and her thoughts were muddy. Her body was out of sync, as her stomach churned and her mind screamed with dangers, but she had nothing to communicate with as she continued to chant and sing the songs, almost unwillingly. Something was wrong, so very wrong - was she the only one who felt it? Why couldn’t she react, or do anything?

She blinked and she was moving, shuffling towards the grounds of the outside temple. This is where they did all the ceremonies, so the moon could shine Her light on them as they entered into their maidenhood. She’d watched the other women become full members of their community today from her little window. Now it was her turn. 

The whole Conclave was here, save the men; the maidens in the middle and the younger girls, waiting for their own ceremonies, were out of sight in the aisles and hiding behind pillars. The Elder Mother was up by the altar, on a terraced platform, with a large slab of stone in front of her, carved with runes. It glittered in the light of the dying sun, as they entered the twilight time.

The world was a cacophony to her, as the Conclave sung the songs for the sun to set and the Moon to rising, bringing their Lady into full power. Her hands laid onto the dark stone of the altar, cool to the touch, as she pulled her body up and on it. She could see the deep grooves of the runes, channels designed to fill up and project power skywards as they were filled with her very life essence; her blood.

She crawled to the middle where the carvings were the most intricate, then turned to lie on her back, catching a glimpse of the Elder Mother with a glowing ceremonial dagger.

_Danger, danger, danger, danger_.

There was a moment of darkness, as the sun disappeared under the horizon and before the Moon started reflecting the light as softer beams. The chants were reaching a fever pitch, calling out to the Heavens for the moon to bless them. The Elder Mother held the dagger up in her claw-like hands, saying the prayers and blessings to activate the runes on the dias. It began to glow beneath her, the light shining through the folds of her dress that spilled across the stone like water.

A voice tickled inside her mind, prickling up her back: _Run_.

The magic that was keeping her from acting on her emotions snapped away suddenly, like a bow string after an arrow had been loosed. She was suddenly hyper aware of the sounds of the forest, the moonlight filtering through the leaves, the breathing and shuffling and sharp inhaled gasps. A tingle went through her midsection, then an electric shock as Sariel saw the blade jutting out of her.

The voice prickled up her jaw: _Bleeding_.

Light was blinding her eyes as the electric shock turned to numbness. The moon was pouring light into her, pulling at her. Something was pulling at her, and she was able to comprehend that the Elder Mother was swirling her hands over her - was she casting a spell? She felt a pull and then a hollowness, and behind the curtain of moonlight, she could see tiny threads connecting to the Elder Mother’s fingers from her own body...what was the Elder pulling from her?

Heat began to spread from the wound as Sariel pulled for breath. A hollow feeling again, like the fight was being drained out of her. She felt heavy.

The voice make her shiver up the back of her head, scalp tingling: _Life_. 

She was scrabbling on to any bit of consciousness as she blinked; her lids heavy. She was losing her fight, and quickly as the runes lit up, her blood flowing through the channels. Each breath was a little harder to take, and her eyes were having trouble focusing on the starry sky above her. She was sinking...sinking…

Sariel didn’t see the vine sneaking through the roots of the old tree behind them, nor could she hear the sounds of leaves bursting with growth from that vine. The Elder Mother was too busy with her spell, using the curtain of moonlight to extract the young maiden’s life force and place it within herself. The vine wrapped up the side of the dias, the tendrils reaching out and curling around the hilt of the knife. With a firm movement, the vine pulled the blade from Sariel’s abdomen, and with a swing, sent it flying into the Elder Mother.

There was a collective gasp as the Elder Mother staggered back with the knife, now sticking out of her shoulder, crimson staining her ceremonial robes. Another rippled through the crowd as Sariel’s eyes snapped open, sitting up on the smooth stone. The skin on her stomach prickled with magic as the flesh melted back together, leaving no traces of injury. The magic from the Moonlight began to pump in her veins; the Moon was rescuing her from a fate She didn’t want for her daughter.

Sariel experienced a moment of perfect clarity, with the tendrils of the Elder Mother’s life-stealing spell dissipating in the power of the Moon moving through her: their Goddess had never asked for a sacrifice. The Elder of their tribe, in her attempt to bolster her power which were fading with age, and starting pulling the life from the most beautiful or potentially powerful of the Maidens to replenish herself. In this way she had extended her life over a century.

She turned, bringing her legs over the side of the altar. She looked out over the mass of elves; all who were transfixed with her. Her eyes glowed with the blessings of their Goddess, her hair had lifted off her shoulders and swirled around her, as if underwater. 

How many of them were duped into this? Was it just the Elder Mother who had become corrupt, wanting to extend her own life by stealing it from another? Or had she corrupted others? 

How many had been killed in the name of the Goddess unnecessarily?

She felt the essence of the Forest move in her; suddenly she was connected to all of it, the magic flowing through her veins like she had never felt before. The Moon Mother had bestowed Her gift on Sariel, who gave a quiet thanks as she turned to face the old elven woman, who was scrambling backwards from the glowing maiden.

Sariel stepped down from the altar, the grass below her bursting into wildflowers as her foot touched it. “How many others have you stolen?” she snarled at the Elder Mother, taking another step. “How many lives did you steal in Her name?”

The old elf’s eyes were wide with fear, and she scrambled back from Sariel, kicking up small clods of moss. She didn’t answer as she struggled to get her footing, before turning and fleeing.

Sariel screamed. How could this woman pervert everything she held dear about their Goddess? How did she get to the point where stealing a life became acceptable, instead of letting her soul become a star beside the Mother of all of them?

In her pain and frustration, she called again on the Moon’s powers. The heavens opened at her command, and a concentrated beam of light came down, and the Elder screamed in pain as her skin cracked and burned under the moon’s power.

As Sariel took another step forward, she felt an odd impact on her shoulder. A familiar tingle, then shock, ran through her shoulder, and she turned to look behind her. One of their rangers stood, bow nocked again, aiming and ready to fire. Her face was contorted in confusion and terror.

They would dare?

_Wolf_.

A collective breath was held as a lone howl pierced through the air, joined by another. Then another, and another. The thunder of thick paws on soft dirt grew, then the sounds of sharp nails on bark; a great white wolf let out a bay as it clambered around the top of the terrace. A second wolf was announced by a scream as it snapped at the heels of panicking maidens, springing from the aisles and into the courtyard. The third wolf howled as it landed on the roof of the aisles, prowling across the structure with lips rolled back to expose it’s yellowed, sharp fangs.

The first and largest wolf leapt on the altar, lowering its head and baring its fangs, letting loose a bone-shaking growl. It’s compatriots howled and bayed in response, before all three leapt into the crowd of elves. Jaw clamped around terrified women, their screaming ringing through the night air as teeth pierced their skin, held fast, and shaken vigorously before being attacked again.

Sariel watched, her face unchanging. The voice radiated from her very core: _Change_.

Sariel felt her body change as her bones ground against each other, an odd but not painful experience, as knees moved up and her ankles lengthened. She felt her skin stretch as her face became a snout; her tongue felt thick as her mouth ached with the growth of new, sharp teeth. Her skin itched for a brief moment as silver fur erupted over her like a wave, starting at her nose and ending at the tip of her tail, falling on her new paws. She could run like this, like the wolves in the forest, away from here with the Goddess at her back, powering her. She didn’t need the Conclave. They would have killed her in defense of the woman who had stolen their very lives.

She lunged forward, great jaws clasping around the Elder’s throat. Snarling and growling, Sariel shook the old woman for as hard as she could. She would have kept shaking until the crone was sent to the Goddess’ side, but Sariel released her jaws as another arrow thumped into her; she yelped in surprise as pain radiated from the injury.

She could see the crackle in the air; others were preparing to attack her through the chaos the wild wolf pack was causing. She couldn’t take on the whole Conclave. The Goddess didn’t save her life just to let it be taken away again.

She was done here.

She took one last look at her home. The temple was in shambles. Electricity crackled in the air as spellcasters attacked the wolves; there growls and yips from the great dogs as they were hit with arrowed or magical energy.

Everything she knew and loved was being destroyed in front of her. 

The Moon pulled her, and her ears lay flat on her skull, before deftly leaping up the terrace and over the Elder, who was bleeding profusely but still alive. Her claws scrabbled for grip, and her hindquarters sprung against the moss and bark, sending her flying over the walls and into the freedom of the forest beyond.

She didn’t know how long she ran for. She instead felt the earth squeeze between the skin of her pawpads, felt the clods of moss and loam kick up from the scrape of her nails. She heard the heave and pant of her breath, the beat of her heart - very much alive. The rhythm in which her limbs impacted the ground soothed her.

She felt more comforted when the three wolves joined her, bloodied and battered, running alongside her until finally she let herself slow, come down to a trot, then a walk, and then she fell to her knees on the soft leaves of the deep forest. Her wolf form retracted, leaving her lying on the ground, smelling the earth and curling up, sobbing softly.

The wolves gathered around her, whining softly and touching her with wet, black noses; occasionally a lick here or there as her small hands reached for them. She grasped their fur, burying her head in deep to the plush of it, letting their shaggy coats warm her.

A wolf nudged her. It dropped something beside her: fresh clothing. The next dropped more items. When she looked at the big wolf she clung to, an amulet was wrapped around it’s fangs.

_You are not alone_.

The feeling rushed through her body, comforting her. She shuffled back from the large wolf, wiping her face, smearing the blood further than it was. She was surprised for a moment to see herself: covered in dirt, sweat and caked in blood. 

A wolf whined: they’d stopped near a stream. Sariel drank and washed from it, the air chilling her as she scrubbed, watching the water turn red. She slipped the patchwork clothing on, then fastening the bags to the belt and tied it around her waist. Lastly, she took the amulet from the wolf’s jaws and hung it around her neck.

When she looked at herself, she recognized it instantly: it was her reflection from the mirror. From her visions.

_Farrelstadt_.

She didn’t quite know where it was. She’d heard of the great city of course, full of everyone. She’d seen other races and peoples in her time: usually a few adventurers would find them, look at them with curiosity, and leave. Rarely had they attacked, and had been dispatched handily by their warriors.

The wolves bowed to her; she bowed back. As she placed a hand on their heads, they shimmered into a cloud of tiny butterflies, swarming around her, wings glistening in the moon’s rays, before scattering into the forest. 

She knew where she was going. She knew she had the power that the Moon had placed in her. She would go forward, and live the way the Goddess had intended her to.


End file.
